Wishing Well
by underthestreetlights
Summary: But she knows, with all her talk of romance being nothing but an idealistic human construct for the hedonistic, all she's ever really wished for is for him to look at her like that. (And she knows that he never, ever will.) In which Caroline Lee is definitely not in love with Will Darcy. Modern.


So, this fic is blatantly LBD whereas the previous works in this collection are kind of ambiguous mostly because I really love the potential LBD Caroline has. Enjoy? (Also, I don't own Pride and Prejudice or The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, obv.)

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><p><strong>Wishing Well<strong>

_But you were always a mess_

_You were always aloof_

_Yeah, it's awful, I guess_

_But it's the awful truth._

_Wishing Well -_ The Airborne Toxic Event

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><p>i.<p>

Caroline first meets Will Darcy at her brother's 20th birthday party and he charms her in a way no boy ever has before. This happens a few months before his parents die, and so he's more open and gives away his smiles more freely than after. And it's not like he tries to be charming or that she wants anything serious; she just wants to have fun, is all.

They don't see each other again until after the accident; she runs into him one afternoon at a bistro in Los Angeles. He looks swamped in a suit and tie (although physically it's tailored specifically for him and fits perfectly, there's something in the way he holds himself, it's like he's so much smaller - and this one part of her just wants to give him a hug, but they're not really close enough for that). But he's perfectly polite and looks perfectly put together as soon as he sees her and he smiles at her jokes and insists on paying the bill. So there's this one small part of her that thinks that, maybe, this is the start of something new.

Over the next five or six years they see each other a handful of times. These meetings mostly occur at birthday get togethers or charity slash business functions (sometimes he's there with a date, sometimes not; she notices that he never has the same woman by his side twice, though, and she doesn't know how to feel about it).

But the summer before Bing buys Netherfield and all that shit that's consumed their lives has yet to happen, Bing drags Caroline and Darcy to Buenos Aires (where Darcy, predictably, owns a house). And while Bing is out courting some girl he's just met (and he swears that this is it, guys, she's the 'one') Darcy and Caroline stay in, getting a little drunk on his fabulously expensive wine collection (and maybe drunk on something akin to… love?). They make a mess of the kitchen trying to cook dinner and end up with something barely edible but it's the most fun Caroline's had in years.

So at the end of the night, she doesn't think about it anymore, she just reaches up (because he's just so goddamn tall) and kisses him.

And she's slightly drunk and somewhat unsteady and she's put everything she has on the line and he's just standing there like a fucking statue and she just wants to punch him, scratch him, make him _feel._

But she doesn't. Of course. She mumbles an apology and escapes to her room and the next day they pretend that nothing's happened and it's just. So. Predictable.

But, after all, she's had twenty-seven years of pretending that things are okay when they really really are not. They don't skirt around the issue like two confused teenagers. They just don't talk about it. Period. She continues to see him at events and he sees her at whatever impulsive decision Bing has made again.

And life goes on.

ii.

When Bing declares himself to be in love (yet again), this time with some small town fashion designer with wide eyes and a perpetually passive smile, Caroline is not surprised. But neither is she happy about it. She's seen how this goes; it's great for the first couple of months, but Bing falls out of love just as fast and just as hard as he falls into it, and she's tired of having to deal with a newly out of love Bing just as much as she's tired of dealing with the disgustingly happy, relationship status: 'not single' Bing.

Caroline doesn't believe in love. Not in the traditional sense, at least. There's something lacklustre and saccharine in romance; something everyone else seems to see as wondrous. Romantic love is too idealistic, too impractical.

Anyone believing otherwise is living in a fantasy.

At least Darcy has her back here. She's learned to depend on his willing eye rolls at Bing's easy attitude, his camaraderie - his place next to her against the wall of whatever function they're attending together. They make a good match; his family and her family are well connected and they travel in the same circles (even his aunt approves), they're both business-minded, willing to work for what they want, their personalities run parallel - what more is really necessary? But Caroline is not in love with William Darcy.

(At least that's what she makes herself believe. And she tries to believe it; she tries _hard_.)

But something about this little town is changing him, and at times, she barely recognises him anymore. Lizzie and Jane come to stay at Netherfield for a couple of weeks and predictably, Bing cannot be happier; he calls in the cleaning services to ready the guests rooms for their stay, obsesses over whether Jane would prefer linen or Egyptian cotton sheets and basically drives Caroline up the walls.

But however annoying it is, all she wants is for him to be happy. And so she tries. She finds that Jane's niceness and complaisant attitude becomes more agreeable over time, and Lizzie - Lizzie is snarky and judgemental and _compelling_.

If only _he_ would stop staring at her. And no matter what Lizzie and her inability to accurately judge other people might think, Caroline knows him better than that. His taciturn manner and confrontational attitude with Lizzie is his way of… what? Showing affection? It's not quite that, she can see he's struggling, but he can't keep away from her. And with the increased night bike rides; even Bing in his romance-addled haze has noticed.

She catches him staring at Lizzie sometimes, and the look in his eyes, it's like she's the first beautiful thing he's ever seen, well. She looks away and tries to swallow the pang in her heart and the tightness in her throat. Because she knows, with all her talk of romance being nothing but an idealistic human construct for the hedonistic, all she's ever really wished for is for him to look at her like that.

(And she knows that he never, ever will.)

iii.

Jealousy is ugly; it's scathing and hard and you feel it acutely in your stomach, in your throat, in your heart. Like your organs are being squeezed - all the oxygen in your systems fizzing away and you can't breathe. And all you can do is try to drown it and wish that he would - No.

(And drown and wish and drown and wish and drown and wish and drown-)

But Caroline Lee is not jealous. No, if anything, she pities him; she's empathetic, sympathetic. This Darcy on Lizzie's videos? He's not the same person she knows, and in spite of all those trashy romances that dominate today's culture, she doesn't wish that he's saying all those things to her. She doesn't want his declaration of love.

(She just wants his love. Simple.)

When she watches Lizzie cut him down, piece by piece, all she can feel is some kind of sick sense of triumph, because maybe, if Lizzie Bennet slaughters this man - kills him, then the Will Darcy she knows will come back. To her.

But that doesn't happen. And she tells herself that it's okay.

iv.

Caroline sees Darcy frequently after the Collins and Collins incident, no matter how much she'd like to avoid him. It's like Bing has noticed there's something off between them and he insists on shoving the two of them together so they can work it out. (His level of subtlety is only surpassed by Gigi Darcy, she thinks. And yes, she's still watching the videos.)

He greets her with the same politeness he always has at Thanksgiving dinner with Bing, Gigi and Fitz and it's the first time she's seen him since he's come back.

She tries cooking the dinner to take her mind off things but like everything else she's tried, it ends up being a terrible idea.

(Firstly, she can't cook. And secondly, it reminds her way too much of that night in Buenos Aires and just how much has changed, and how much has stayed the same.)

Fitz's pecan pie is the thing that saves Thanksgiving dinner and no matter how much they all compliment her cooking, their half full plates tell a different story.

After dinner is a façade of small talk and expensive wine until it gets late and they all head off to bed. But Caroline can't stand the palpable distance straining between her and Darcy.

So she confronts him. "Why don't you hate me?" (It's the first thing that comes to mind, and perhaps not the best conversation starter - especially one like this.)

He looks confused; his eyebrows do that thing where they furrow slightly when he doesn't understand something. "Why would I hate you?"

She smiles tightly. "I know you saw the videos." She doesn't beat around the bush. And neither does he.

"Yes," he says, his hand pulling through his hair, "I did, and while I am… disappointed with what you said, I can't fault you for it. It's not your fault she thinks what she thinks. You know me," (but does she, really?) "I try to place blame where it belongs." He says this last part with a sardonic smile.

She's not sure what to say. She looks at him, her mascara feels stiff and dry over her eyes. And like that he's… forgiven her? So why does she now feel worse than she did before?

"Goodnight, Caroline," he says and she just mutely watches him go.

v.

When Caroline goes to confront Lizzie about her role in her brother's life (and about Darcy), she isn't thinking. She knows how terrible it will make her look, but it's the awful truth, isn't it, that it's the first portrayal of the real Caroline on those videos.

And when she watches those last videos, she feels a little sick, because it's not until now that she really realises how much she has fucked up not only her life, but the lives of the people she cares about.

_I would do anything for the preservation of my family._

And this pre-puking sensation in her lungs and her stomach and her throat - that's not jealousy. It's regret.

vi.

These events are always the same. She's in some ridiculously tight dress and a plaster smile, watching all the other people who would rather be somewhere else. And he's here too, in his usual corner spot. Except this time he's not alone. He's brought Lizzie with him and as much as Caroline does not want to see it, he looks happy - happier than he's ever been

She watches the two of them canoodling off in the corner. It's a little sickening, although that may also be because of the three shots she's just downed making her a little unsteady on her feet. She wrenches her gaze away from them, turning around and becoming this close to swiping Catherine de Bourgh in the face.

Catherine's wearing a Tyrian Purple dress that is slightly too flamboyant for her age and for once, she barely notices Caroline's almost faux pas, mostly likely because she's too busy looking down her nose at Lizzie and Darcy wrapped up in each other.

"Caroline," she says.

"Ms. de Bourgh, it's good to see you," Caroline says, swishing her fringe back behind her ear.

But Catherine de Bourgh is not in the mood for pleasantries; it's like she barely hears Caroline at all. (But then again, incivility is practically inherent in that woman's nature.) "Hmm. What do you think my nephew's shiny little new toy over there?"

"He looks - happy. I'm happy for him." And it's the truth; she's not heartless as people seem to think, like they seem to want to believe.

Catherine, predictably, is not satisfied with this response. "Well, I suppose if he has to sleep with her then he should do as he must. There's still time; she'll be out of his system soon and he can continue the Darcy line with a respectable woman." She gives Caroline a capital-L Look and leaves.

Later, Caroline's sitting at the bar on her God knows what number drink - screw propriety - when he sits down beside her.

She acknowledges his presence with simple "Darcy" but she doesn't look at him.

He doesn't say anything either and she guesses she shouldn't expect him to because really, he's not the most loquacious person - to put it mildly - but she's not sure why he's here and she can't stand the silence anymore so she asks him how he is.

He's good - great, it turns out.

And Lizzie?

She's doing really well. They're doing really well. And the smile which graces his words is so soft and full of _joy_ and it's obvious he doesn't even realise he's smiling and part of her wants to rip it off his goddamn face and the other wants to frame it so it lives forever. But she does neither; she just wishes him goodnight.

I'm happy for you, she says.

(I just wish you were this happy with me.)

vii.

She thinks that maybe, she's finally over him. Caroline Lee is not one to pine over a boy and revolve her whole life around him. She's a strong, independent 21st century woman and she does not need him to make her happy. She's not the star of some bad soap opera which should've been cut six seasons ago. (To be honest, she wouldn't be the star; she'd be the bitch who gets three minutes of screen time and a measly pay, she thinks.)

It takes her another month after the function to realise that she'd never actually apologised to him for her actions at Netherfield a year ago. It's a warm July night when she decides that she's going to make things right. She's going to apologise and then she's never going to see him again and she can move on, to better, greater things.

She reaches his apartment door and raises her hand to knock but then she hears something.

It's a breathy "Will" and some murmuring she can't make out. Of course. He's not alone. Then before she can get the fuck out of there she hears a shriek of laughter and the sounds of something breaking and the images in her head are pounding, and there's a quiet moan and he says "Elizabeth" like he's never said her name before and it's all just a little too much.

(It breaks her heart in two in the most cliché way.)

So she gets out of there are fast as she can and she remembers back to when she wanted to make him feel. Now she realises that maybe it's really better not to feel at all. Numbness is good; numbness is better than feeling like the stupid sixteen year old girl experiencing her first 'heartbreak'.

But Caroline isn't some pathetic teenage girl with a crush. She paints on her mask carefully each morning and smiles through the day and she's ab-so-lute-ly fine.

And so what if that night she goes to some bar and brings some stranger home with her, fucks him and kicks him out right after. It doesn't mean she's not over him.

It doesn't mean a thing.

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><p>Tell me what you think?<p> 


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